The Locked Room

By Sebastian Tang, Bedford College

As the downpour drums against the cold glass pane, Beya ponders deeply about her family heirloom. The prize of the Farraes, passed down from generation to generation, was no more. Despite that, it meant so much to her. To throw it away would be burning her only memory of her late grandmother and trainer.

There is a flash of blue, followed by a loud rumble. Amidst the noise, Beya hears a faint sound. It is pouring outside and the afternoon sun is veiled away by slate clouds. The morning post was well past its schedule.

She goes to the front door. On the floor is a piece of folded paper, gummed up and devoid of a stamp. At the back, her name as the recipient but there was no sender. The strangest part was that the gum was fresh.

Suspicious, she unfolds the paper. Inside, she finds a cryptic and disturbing message.

“A proud, young warrior and a broken sword. Stuck within her own cage, bearing her disgrace. I have been watching you little one. Like a motherless lamb, hiding away in her hole. iNoght long nu.”

At the bottom of the letter is a mysterious name. Yumihine.

Beya’s blood turns cold. A thick fog sweeps over as she scans the room. Her heart is thumping like drum beats while her breathing increases. She is not alone.

“Who’s in my home?!”

Full of worry, Beya draws her revolver. The barrel held in front, she searches the house, expecting an intruder. Her magazine is brimming with shiny cartridges. Her fingers are wrapped around the trigger.

Leaving the front hall, Beya searches the ground floor. She checks every room, looking for anything unusual. Everything was where she had expected. Nothing was displaced nor broken. A thorough search revealed no footprints on the floor.

As she finishes with the ground floor, Beya heads for the stairs. At the foot, she hears faint rustling coming from above. A cold drop runs down her spine. The threat was deeper in the house.

Slowly, Beya makes her way up the stairs, keeping her gun drawn. She starts off with her room. Opening the door, she peers through, expecting a surprise attack. There is nothing inside except for her clothes and travel gear.

Next, she moves on to the next room, her partner’s bedroom. At the door, she hears faint whispers in the air. The words are too quiet to determine what they are saying. The source is a locked room at the far end of the hallway. The room in question was her grandmother’s. One that had been locked up since her passing. The last time it had anyone in it was over three years ago.

Carefully, Beya approaches the abandoned room, her heart pounding faster than ever. As she makes her way, the whispers gradually become clearer. They are chanting “Desolate Bride”.

At the door, she draws her key and inserts it into the hole.